


Tattoo

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Holding Hands, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8217772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: When Ian gets his tattoo, Mickey goes with him and holds his hand





	

Mickey swallowed around Ian’s dick, keeping his lips tight as he pulled off slowly. Ian still had a firm grip on his hair as he panted above him. He wiped his mouth on the back of his mouth and got off his knees.

“Shit, Mick,” Ian hissed, pulling his boxers and jeans back up. His eyes fell onto Mickey’s swollen red lips, and he just had to kiss them. He grabbed him by the neck and brought his mouth to his. Now that they had started kissing, it was all he wanted to do. He ran his tongue along the seam of Mickey’s lips and he opened right up with an eager moan. Ian could feel himself getting hard at the fact he could feel Mickey getting hard against his thigh. He pulled away and sighed, reaching down between them to rub at Mickey’s hard on. “Can we just skip this so I can fuck you?”

Mickey blushed, containing a laugh by biting his lips. He was embarrassed by how much he wanted to kiss Ian all the time now. Reluctantly, he stepped back, shifting his semi to the side of his thigh to make it less noticeable. “As much as I want you on me right now, your stupid ass already made the appointment.”

Ian flagged, pouting a little to cover his nerves returning in full force. He wished he could sink into the brick building he was leaning against. The dumpster they were conveniently hidden behind smelled like it hadn’t been emptied in decades. Around the corner was the tattoo shop where they had been headed before Mickey offered to alleviate his fear. And it had worked up until two seconds ago. He wanted to kiss Mickey again.

Mickey watched him a moment, then surged forward and pecked his lips. He pulled back and brushed a hand down Ian’s face. He nodded towards the street side end of the alley. “C'mon.”

Ian followed him.

All the legal formalities and small talk aside, Ian settled on his side on the sheet of parchment lining the bench. Mickey stood off to the side with his arms crossed, still skeptical of the place after thoroughly sussing it out. He had his arms crossed with Ian’s shirt draped over his shoulder, eyes fixed on the artist and what he was doing. Ian knew the last time Mickey was in a tattoo shop, drunk at thirteen and wanting to make his father happy, he got the very tattoos that made the rest of the world unhappy.

“Ready?” The artist was talking to him, but Ian was looking at Mickey when he spoke.

“Mick?” Ian catches his eyes and reaches out his hand.

Mickey stares at him and his outstretched hand for more than a minute. He’s thinking, trying to figure out the myriad of ways this could get back to his dad. But he also thinks about the one reason he doesn’t care. He crosses over in two strides and pulls up a stool. He perches on it and takes Ian’s hand in his, locking their fingers together.

Ian’s smile is small and just for him.

“Ready,” he finally answers, and feels the first sensations of the needle buzzing against his skin. He loses his breath, scared to move if he screams.

Mickey squeezes his hand and Ian didn’t realize his eyes were closed when he opens them to look into pure blues. “Breathe,” Mickey says calmly and quietly.

Ian nods, inhaling and exhaling while keeping his ribcage from expanding too much. He closes his eyes again and concentrates on how rough and soft Mickey’s hand is. He runs his thumb along the birthmark he feels obsessed with sometimes. The only mark on Mickey not caused by harm. The mark he sometimes bites when Ian feels too good inside him to keep quiet.

Before he knows it, the tattoo is done. Nothing wild or crazy, just a simple bird in flight to remind him he can feel free even when he has to hide. Mickey doesn’t let go of his hand until he’s up and admiring it in the mirror.

“Fucking nice, man,” Mickey says, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to touch Ian or kiss him or hold his hand again. They hadn’t done that since the night Ian stayed over. What a sweet relief it had been to wake up to Ian’s face, Ian’s arms wrapped around him, Ian’s smile. Ian had kissed him goodbye before leaving for work, and Mickey had never felt so good.

“You think? It’s not cliché or something?” Ian asked with a grin, only slightly worried.

Mickey shook his head, “Nah. No, it’s good. Now put your shirt back on, He Man.”

“You complaining?” Ian teased, stepping closer.

Mickey’s eyes glanced around the shop out of habit, but he chuckled. “No, but I’d like to get out of here, if you don’t fucking mind.” Mickey licked his lips and tossed Ian’s shirt at him.

Ian laughed, knowing full well Mickey wanted to get him alone to show him what he really thought. He was just as eager too, although he was in pain. He let the artist cover it up and explain what to do to prevent infection.

He turned back to Mickey, getting close enough to make him flush red. He smiled devilishly. “Help me? Hurts like a bitch.”

Mickey scoffed, but helped him into his shirt. Ian paid then they were on their way.

“So where do you–” Ian started, but Mickey was grabbing him and backing him up against the wall from before, careful not to be too rough with him. He pressed their lips together hard and fast, sucking and biting at them.

Mickey hummed, pulling away and resting his forehead against Ian’s. “It looks hot…so fucking hot,” he breathed.

Ian chuckled, pulling Mickey closer by his hips. “Thanks.”

Mickey reached between them and palmed at Ian’s growing dick. Ian gasped, bucking into it and wincing a little. “Think you can still fuck me?”

Ian grinned, capturing Mickey’s lips again and squeezing his ass. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Mickey groaned then pulled away, heading deeper into the alley and towards their usual spot. “C'mon.”


End file.
